


Writer's Block

by makbaes (gentlemindedlostgirl)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Pining, Writers, doyoung is a dumbass, i dunno how to tag this?, rival authors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 09:24:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19104292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentlemindedlostgirl/pseuds/makbaes
Summary: Yuta Nakamoto had been the bane of Doyoung's existence since his debut novel five years previous. The writers worked under different publishing companies, but had wrote the same vague genre and therefore competed for audiences. Doyoung had hoped with this release that he might finally have some of the limelight to himself. He had really wanted some time where he could go on press tours and no one would ask him about Yuta or if they were friends or if he’d read his books and he could just focus on his own accomplishments.It didn’t appear that things were going to go that way for him.





	Writer's Block

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt left in my cc by an anon! If you wanna, you can cc me at https://curiouscat.me/goldennmakbae or find me on twitter @hufflepuffchnle!

_Do you want to hear the good news or the bad news first?_ is never what Doyoung wants to hear from Taeyong, one of the annoying editors working with his publishing company that he calls a friend despite his better judgement. The two of them bicker like it’s their job, but Doyoung’s okay with that. It’s never malicious and it means he can get out whatever stress has built up from his writer's block.

The two are out for noodles--Taeyong because he’s on his lunch break at the office, and Doyoung because Taeyong has decided that if Doyoung doesn’t go out to eat with him at least once a week, the author would never leave his apartment. He’s only _partially_ wrong--the grocery delivery service he used to use just upped their charges and Doyoung can no longer justify using it. So now he has to leave to go grocery shopping once a week.

“Bad news,” Doyoung said before slurping up a larger portion of noodles than was technically socially acceptable.

Taeyong rolled his eyes. They’d had this argument before. Doyoung liked to hear bad news first so that the good news might cheer him up. Taeyong, on the other hand, always preferred to hear the good news first so that the bad news wouldn’t feel so bad compared to the good news he had heard. They had argued in a coffee shop for twenty minutes over whose method was better, but all they had achieved was pissing off the barista.

“Well, uh, don’t shoot the messenger, but I just got word from Kun at Harpercollins that...Yuta’s next book is coming out the same month as yours.” Taeyong immediately winced as if he was bracing for the impact of the nearest projectile that Doyoung could throw, which wasn’t an unfair thing for him to do.

Doyoung gripped the table a little tighter and started to grit his teeth. Yuta Nakamoto had been the bane of his existence since his debut novel five years previous. The writers worked under different publishing companies, but had written the same vague genre and therefore competed for audiences. Both writers had blown up massively, following the trend of dystopian YA that had sprung up at the time. But whereas Doyoung’s stories were focused more on science fiction, society, and the _world_ he had worked so hard to create, Yuta’s stories were more character focused--particularly when it came to the romances. This meant that, inevitably, though Doyoung’s books always did _well,_ Yuta’s ever so slightly better. Doyoung had hoped with this release that he might finally have some of the limelight to himself--the book was the second in a series, with characters that people seemed to like enough that a sizeable fandom had developed. He had really wanted some time where he could go on press tours and no one would ask him about Yuta or if they were friends or if he’d read his books and he could just focus on his own accomplishments.

It didn’t appear that things were going to go that way for him.

“What’s the good news?” he asked, rubbing his temples and hoping that maybe, _just_ maybe, he’d hear something like _Yuta’s book will be a total flop,_ or, _they’re not going to do much in the way of promotions for it._ It was petty, but he needed a break.

“The good news is yours comes out first,” Taeyong replied, stirring his noodles. “His doesn’t come out until the last day of the month, so you’ll have a good couple weeks to yourself before he starts doing serious promotion.”

Doyoung nodded. It wasn’t _great_ news. But it was good news. His book was coming out on June second--ready for kids to start summer vacation and have more free time to read. He’d have at least two weeks before Yuta was also doing any kind of in-person promotions. Doyoung would take what he could get, even if he wasn’t happy with it. At least the two of them were both in the middle of series. If Yuta’s book had been the first or the last, Doyoung would have been screwed. No matter the time of release, the fact of it being a milestone book would’ve taken away any and all attention from him. But that was something for Doyoung two years from now to worry about when Yuta finished his trilogy.

“There’s worse things in the world,” Doyoung said as a way to close off this conversation. Partially because, in truth, there were certainly _worse_ things for his career, this wasn’t the end of him. And partially because he just didn’t want to think about it anymore. If he could pretend it wasn’t happening, god damn it, maybe it wouldn’t.

 

* * *

 

 

It was happening, unfortunately, but at the very least, Doyoung got to enjoy the first two weeks of June happily answering fan questions on Twitter and falsely smiling with morning talk show hosts. He took particular joy in going through his book’s tags on various social media sites and seeing what fan theories popped up about the directions the story was going in--who was going to die, what relationship would be endgame, if the heroes would even win at all. Some of them were actually on the right track, but Doyoung had always prided himself in knowing that the people who read his books were bright young minds. All in all, things were good, His book was set to be a New York Times Bestseller, people were loving it, he felt inspired to keep working on the next in the series.

And then he had gotten the simultaneously worst and best phonecall in his life. First, his agent had informed him that there was a local high school that was wondering if he’d give a talk about what it was like to be a full time author, maybe answer some questions from the kids, read a little bit of his book. He could even do a signing after. Doyoung was thrilled. He didn’t do things like that often--mostly because his books often had anarchist overtones, which didn’t make him education friendly--but he always adored getting to put faces to the number of sales. So he agreed on the spot.

Which was when his agent informed him that Yuta Nakamoto would be joining him. That they would be doing it together. Doyoung had to bite his tongue from backing out, because this was an amazing opportunity, and he didn’t know when he was going to get another one, but the idea that he would have to share this moment with someone he disliked so much made his stomach churn. He agreed to go along anyway, but made a mental note to see if his doctor could give him some sort of anxiety pill to keep him from flipping the table if Yuta said anything stupid.

He wasn’t able to get anything like that, but he did make sure he drank green tea instead of coffee that morning in the hopes that maybe being a little tired might keep him from blowing a gasket and keeping things as professional as they needed to be.

Doyoung never knew what to wear to things like this, but he opted on a clean mint button-up to show that he was a _professional,_ but paired it with a nice pair of jeans and converse to show that he was also _cool._ The school had set up a table and chairs in the library, and the staff were all extremely kind as they showed him around, made sure he had water, and had him sat down at the table with plenty of time for him to go over his little spiel in his head. That made him feel better--Doyoung was a planner by nature, and he liked having everything in order. He hadn’t had time to go over his talk that morning, so the extra fifteen minutes now was a godsend.

Which was how he should have known that it wasn’t going to last.

Soon there was a smile next to him that was far too bright for eight in the morning. Doyoung tried to avoid being in the same room as Yuta as much as possible, which made it easy for him to forget what an insufferable presence he was. He was chipper, and optimistic, always looked like he was on the verge of laughter. Doyoung was certain no one had ever had the guts to tell him how absolutely irritating that was, and if they weren’t in a business setting, he might’ve done it then and there.

“Morning, Doyoung,” Yuta said as he sat down in the chair next to him. “How exciting is this? I can’t remember the last time I spoke in a high school,” he hummed as he looked around the library. This was one of the better funded districts in the area, and it showed in the library, where everything was clean and looked relatively new. “Or stepped foot in one, for that matter. When was the last time you did?”

Doyoung drummed his fingers on the table, realizing that he wasn’t going to have any time to think over his talk again. And as much as he wanted to ignore Yuta for the duration of his time here, he couldn’t afford for anyone here to think he was standoffish or rude. A scandal was the last thing he needed with this book--especially since he had started getting some heat from conservative readers for introducing a disabled protagonist.

“God, probably around the time my first book came out? I guest-taught a creative writing class. The kids were brutal, but I guess I needed that experience. I never feared anything my editor had to say to me ever again,” he chuckled, living through the memory again and how he had allowed a room of fourteen year olds tear his writing to shreds. He hadn’t been _that_ much older than them at the time--a mere nineteen and brand new to the professional writing world, an underdog upstart.

“That sounds like a _nightmare,”_ Yuta said, shaking his head, though he still wore his characteristic grin. “I bet those kids didn’t know back then how lucky they were to have you as a teacher,” he said as he rested his chin in his hand.

Doyoung shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Something he had unfortunately read about Yuta in every interview that existed was that he had the kind of charm that made everyone he spoke to feel like the most important person in the world. Doyoung had never been the subject of that--despite being new writers at the same time in the same genre with an overlapping fanbase, the two had only ever met a small handful of times in the past. Certainly, he had tried to busy himself and keep as far away as possible. In all their time of vague acquaintance, this was the first time the two of them really had a true one-on-one conversation.

He looked down at his hands and hoped that he wasn’t blushing. He opened his mouth to say something when the principal of the school, a comically round, bald middle-aged man, approached them to inform them that the students would start filing in.

Doyoung let Yuta go first, which looked kind, but was really just a ploy so that Doyoung could look over his notes a little while longer before it was his turn. But he kept getting distracted--watching Yuta get passionate about his own stories and the writing process was near infectious. He giggled at his own jokes, gesticulated wildly, even showed the students his writing notebook, which was a disaster of scribbles and plot holes. It was something so intensely vulnerable that Doyoung was actually impressed--he wouldn’t even show his closest friends his writing notebooks, let alone a room full of teenagers.

So when it was Doyoung’s turn to speak, he felt lackluster by comparison, which just made him angrier at Yuta and how he had _almost_ charmed Doyoung into forgetting that he loathed him. Almost. Other than that, however, his talk was fairly standard, and well-recieved. He could tell who in the audience was a fan of his, and who had clearly been dragged by an English teacher. He didn’t mind that, he knew that as long as one person in the crowd seemed to get something from his talk, he was happy.

If Doyoung thought Yuta had shined during his talk, watching him to the question-answer was only worse. Yuta was witty, cool, and relatable in a way that Doyoung had never mastered. And Yuta had more hidden details about the universes he created than Doyoung ever thought he did. That, plus the fact that Yuta lit up like a Christmas tree every time someone asked him a question, and Doyoung felt dim by comparison. Which wasn’t to say he did poorly, he was just fine, and the students seemed to like what he had to say. But by the end of the Q&A, Doyoung was both sad and angry that he’d had to share this time with Yuta.

And if all _that_ wasn’t enough--then there was the signing portion of the afternoon. Students who wanted lined up to get their signatures and have little one-on-one discussions. Yuta, naturally, made every one of these students feel like they were the center of his universe. He laughed with them, encouraged them to pursue their dreams, made himself their _friend_ rather than their mentor. And he truly seemed to adore every person he spoke to. By the end of it all, Doyoung just wanted to go back to his apartment and hope that Jaehyun was free because he was in serious need of a drink after all that.

“You...were really good with them,” Doyoung said stiffly as the students began to file out of the library. He needed to say _something,_ and even though the event was over, he felt under scrutiny and still couldn’t afford to say any of the quips that were in his head.

Yuta grinned over at him and it made Doyoung want to take back every nice thought he had ever had about the fellow author. “Ah, I just love kids is all.”

Doyoung raised an eyebrow at that. “They’re teenagers. They’re hardly _kids.”_

“Sure they are,” Yuta shrugged. “Think about the person _you_ were at sixteen. Would you call him an adult?”

Doyoung scrunched up his face in disgust and shook his head. “I mean. Granted, at sixteen I was working on a shitty draft of my first book. But I wouldn’t trust him with any major life decisions by any means.”

“Exactly,” Yuta laughed. “Most of them can’t drive, let alone drink, smoke, or vote. Ergo, kids,” he said, giving Doyoung a little nudge with his elbow. “Anyway,” he said, checking his watch as he stood up. “I should go, I’ve gotta head over to the gym or my trainer will strangle me.”

“You have a _trainer?”_ Doyoung asked incredulously.

“I work hard to be this pretty,” he teased, throwing Doyoung a wink that made him want to pull his hair out of anger.

He was complaining about all of this over several glasses of wine later that night to his old friend Jaehyun, who shook his head in an attempt to make sure he got all the details correct. They were sprawled on Doyoung’s couch, they had put something stupid on TV just so they could have some background noise in the otherwise silent apartment, but neither of them were actually paying any attention to it.

“Remind me why you hate this guy again?” Jaehyun asked as he adjusted his position so that he could sip his wine more safely. The couch was a light gray plush and if anything happened to it, Doyoung would have lost his mind. It had been his first real adult purchase, and he was very proud of it.

“Because he thinks he’s better than me because he’s a sellout writing romance,” Doyoung said, his tone making it clear he thought Jaehyun was an idiot for not understanding.

“How do you know that?”

Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“How do you know he thinks he’s better than you? Has he ever said that?”

Doyoung frowned and looked into his nearly-empty wine class and Jaehyun snorted, which caused Doyoung to look back up and glare at his friend.

“So you hate him for no reason,” Jaehyun stated.

“Not true,” Doyoung said as he filled his glass.

“You hate him because he makes more sales than you,” Jaehyun amended, “And refuse to accept that he might actually be a really cool person that you’d like if you spent more than five minutes with him.”

“He smiles too much,” Doyoung decided before taking a large sip of his drink. “Have you ever met someone that happy? No one’s that happy. He’s hiding something.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jaehyun scoffed.

Doyoung grumbled and took a long sip of his wine. Not everyone could be happily settled with the love of their life like Jaehyun was. Not that Jaehyun didn’t deserve to have the absolutely cliche romcom relationship that he did--as far as Doyoung was concerned, no one deserved it _more._ And Johnny was a nice guy, despite his antics, and he gave Doyoung another reason to cook, so he really didn’t have any right to complain.

“Stupid pretty boy,” Doyoung grumbled into his glass of wine.

Jaehyun just smirked. “Ah, so _that’s_ the problem. He’s _pretty._ And you’re scared that if you get to know him too well, you’ll actually _like_ him.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Doyoung said, but something in his chest fell into the pit of his stomach as a feeling of dread washed over him. He wasn’t _attracted_ to Yuta, that would be the most absurd thing Doyoung had ever even considered in his life and--

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and started to mumble something about Taeyong needing to remember when work hours were when his eyes blew wide. Instead of a text from his editor, there was a DM on Twitter.

_Hi Doyoung! It was nice working with you today. You’re great, it’s a wonder we don’t hang out more. Can I buy you a drink this week?_

Doyoung took a sharp inhale through the nose and Jaehyun, who never learned the true meaning of privacy, was resting his head on Doyoung’s shoulder so that he could read the message.

“Well you have to go,” Jaehyun said resolutely.

“Or I could ignore the DM,” Doyoung countered, still staring down at the message as if he were deciding how he felt about it.

“But you won’t,” Jaehyun smiled as he poured the last of the wine into his glass.

 

* * *

 

 

Doyoung sat in a local bar and wanted to smack his tipsy self for agreeing to get drinks with Yuta. It had been nearly a week since their session at the High School, and Doyoung had an omnipresent headache since. He blamed Yuta for it, naturally, along with Jaehyun. Because ever since Jaehyun had even suggested that he might find Yuta attractive, it was all he could think about. Which meant that he had also put a little more effort into his look tonight, which embarrassed him greatly, but he couldn’t help himself. He was still casual--his jeans had some rips in them and he was in what he would classify as a “nice” t-shirt in a nice burgundy color. But he had still spent far too much time laboring over these choices in front of his mirror a few hours previous.

Yuta had picked well in terms of bars, Doyoung would admit. It wasn’t quite a college bar, so there weren’t a bunch of students demanding the music louder and grinding on each other. But it didn’t feel like a stuffy bar for the old or rich either--it was a happy medium, with dim lights but plenty of warmth that made him feel almost at ease as he waited for the follow writer to appear.

When the other arrived, Doyoung was embarrassed by the way he felt his breath hitch. He had never seen Yuta outside of a professional setting, so seeing him dressed with less care made him _real_ in a way Doyoung had never considered before. He was a writer, sure, a prolific one. But he was also just a young man in his mid-twenties with interests and hobbies other than his work.

Yuta grinned when he found Doyoung and accompanied him at the bar. “You found the place. I was worried you wouldn’t. This place is kind of a hole in the wall.”

“I like it,” Doyoung replied as he looked around. “How’d you find it? I never would have come in here on my own.”

“By accident,” Yuta replied with a chuckle. “I was scrolling through Yelp reviews for local bars because my cousins were coming into town and I wanted to bring them somewhere other than my old college bar. Figured this place is a little classier than that. What’s your drink of choice?”

Doyoung hummed as he considered his answer. “Depends. Is this a casual night, or are we getting drunk?”

Yuta grinned at that. “Well _now_ I think we’re getting drunk. I normally do a gin and tonic, but I’ll get you whatever you’re feeling.”

This was a bad idea. Doyoung knew that. He knew what he was like when he got drunk. But he also wasn’t paying, and Yuta was making more money than him. So he threw all caution to the wind and waved his hand in dismissal. “Gin and tonic sounds good to me.”

* * *

 

What Doyoung learned after three drinks was that Yuta was a person. Which, granted, was somewhat obvious. But easy to forget. Yuta cared more about fitness than Doyoung cared about most things, he played with a local club soccer team during his free time. It helped him get out of his apartment, be social, and stay fit. His family was from Japan, and most of them still lived there. He showed Doyoung many pictures of his three month old niece that he missed terribly. But he liked New York, and he couldn’t actually see himself living anywhere else.

He also learned that Yuta had read every single one of his books. Which made Doyoung feel exposed and embarrassed--for all of his hatred for Yuta all these years, he had never actually read anything the other had written. When Doyoung sheepishly apologized for that fact, Yuta shook his head. Apparently the fellow writer had little tolerance for alcohol and was erring more towards the side of _drunk_ than tipsy by now.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, leaning forward. “You’re busy, it doesn’t bother me.”

“You’re busy too,” Doyoung frowned. “But you still made the effort. And I didn’t.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Doyoung said, deciding to indulge the drunk man.

“Why don’t you like me?”

Doyoung jolted, and the clear expression of hurt on Yuta’s face made him want to melt into the floor. He hadn’t realized he was being so obvious in his actions, but looking back, he shouldn’t have been surprised that Yuta had caught on to his icy behavior.

He decided to be honest in the hopes that Yuta wouldn’t even remember the conversation--or at the very least that it would be fuzzy. “I was jealous of you.” He finished off the last of his drink in an effort to be able to blame all of this on the alcohol.

Yuta gasped as his eyes widened. “ _You?_ That’s crazy, you’re a way better writer than _me._ I admire the hell out of you!”

“I doubt that, Yuta,” Doyoung said, looking down into his empty glass to avoid the puppy dog stare coming from Yuta.

“Your descriptions are fuckin phenomenal,” Yuta said, taking Doyoung’s hand in his as if that would provide some sort of emphasis. “And your universes are fuckin’ mind blowing. I _wish_ I could do that. But I get too wrapped up in the love stories…”

“Why _do_ you focus so heavily on romance?” Doyoung wondered. “I’ve always been curious.”

“I just love love stories,” Yuta admitted, a light flush crossing his cheeks. “And I think there’s something hopeful about being able to find love at the end of the world. Everything may be going to shit, but people are still people and they need each other. We need to feel like we’re fighting for something.”

“And the good of humanity isn’t reason enough?” Doyoung teased.

“Sure, but love helps,” Yuta shrugged. “It always does.” He paused for a moment to finish his drink before he looked back to Doyoung. “Have you ever been in love?”

He had to think about that for a moment. He had dated, and he had liked the people that he had dated plenty. But had he ever felt that time-stopping romance that Yuta seemed to have an affinity for? The kind of love that made you think that you could fight off apocalypse? No, he was certain that he hadn’t. But looking at the hopeful young romantic in front of him made him feel like maybe he could have it someday. “I haven’t,” he replied. “Have you?”

“I fall in love twice a day,” Yuta laughed. “But nothing that stuck. I’m not in a rush. It’ll happen someday. We’ve got forever ahead of us.”

Something about the buzz of the alcohol and the way Yuta talked about love made Doyoung want it desperately. He suddenly felt cheated out of a myriad of experiences he’d never had. And it was just that Yuta looked so beautiful bathed in the dim glow around them, it made Doyoung feel reckless.

“I hope you find someone worthy of your optimism,” Doyoung mused, leaning forward in spite of himself.

“I’ve got enough optimism for the both of us,” he replied, meeting Doyoung halfway. Their noses were practically touching, but Yuta hesitated before taking the final leap. “Promise you won’t regret this,” he asked, his voice quiet and pleading.

Doyoung’s heart twisted. “Not for a second,” he promised.

Yuta kissed like he was saying _thank you._ He was halfway smiling, which made the kissing difficult, but Doyoung didn’t mind. It wasn’t the best kiss he had ever had. But it was the first kiss that made him _feel_ something. Yuta’s hand came up to caress his cheek, and Doyoung wanted to smack himself for avoiding Yuta for so long when it now felt so obvious that _this_ was what they were meant to be doing.

When the kiss broke, Yuta rested his forehead against Doyoung’s and took a deep breath. “Please meet up with me again when we’re sober. Don’t...don’t let things go back to the way they were.”

Doyoung put his hand on top of Yuta’s. “I don’t think I could go back to that even if I wanted to.”

“Good,” Yuta sighed, letting himself fall away from Doyoung, grinning like an idiot.

Doyoung, for his part, was trying to commit the way Yuta looked in that moment to memory. He had a feeling it would inspire some of the writing for his next book.


End file.
